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2617 

H67M2E 


^temporary  Dramatists  Series 

Btanora 


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THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OH 

Kenneth  Hacgowan 


MADONNA  DIANORA 


Contemporary  Dramatists,  Series 

HUGO  VON  HOFMANNSTHAL 

Death  and  the  Fool 
Madonna  Dianora 

JOSE  ECHEGARAY 
The  Great  Galeoto 

MAXIM  GORKI 

Submerged 

AUGUST  STRINDBERG 

Advent 

JACINTO  BENAVENTE 

The  Smile  of  Mono  Lisa 

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Contemporary  Dramatists  Series 


Madonna   Dianora 


A  PLAY  IN  VERSE 


BY 


HUGO  VON  HOFMANNSTHAL 

Translated  from  the  German 
BY    HARRIET    BETTY    BOAS 


BOSTON:  RICHARD  G.  BADGER 

TORONTO:      THE    COPP   CLARK   CO.,   LIMITED 


Copyright,  1916,  by  Richard  G.  Badger 


All    Rights    Reserved 


THE  GORHAM  PRESS,  BOSTON,  U.  S.  A. 


PT 

I 

MADONNA  DIANORA 


572573 


MADONNA  DIANORA 

La  demente:   "Conosci  la  storia  di  Madonna  Dianoraf" 
II  medico :    "Vagamente.    Non  ricordo  pin."    .    .    . 
Sogno  d'un  mattino  di  primavera. 

The  garden  of  a  sombre  Lombardian  Palace.  To 
the  right,  the  wall  of  a  house,  which  is  at  an  angle 
with  the  moderately  high  garden  wall  that  encloses 
it.  The  lower  portion  of  the  house  is  built  of  rough 
granite,  above  which  rests  a  strip  of  plain  marble 
forming  a  sill  which,  under  each  window,  is  adorned 
with  a  lion's  head  in  repose.  Two  windows  are 
visible,  each  one  having  a  small  angular  balcony  with 
a  stone  railing,  spaced  sufficiently  to  show  the  feet 
of  those  standing  there.  Both  windows  are  cur- 
tained to  the  floor.  The  garden  is  a  mere  lawn  with 
a  few  scattered  fruit  trees.  The  corner  of  the 
garden  between  the  wall  and  the  house  is  crowded 
with  high  boxwood  bushes.  A  leafy  grapevine, 
trained  over  stunted  chestnut-trees  forms  an  arbor 
which  completely  fills  the  left  side  of  the  stage; 
only  its  entrance  is  visible.  The  arbor  slants  irreg- 
ularly to  the  left  rear.  Behind  the  rear  wall  there 
may  be  seen  (by  the  gallery  spectator)  a  narrow 
path  beyond  which  is  the  neighbor's  garden  wall — 
7 


8  MADONNA  DIANORA 

no  house  is  visible.  In  the  neighbor's  garden  and  as 
far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  the  tops  of  the  trees  are  il- 
luminated by  the  evening  glow  of  a  brilliant  sunset. 

DIANORA 
(At  rear  window.) 

A  harvester  I  see,  and  not  the  last 

No,  not  the  last,  descending  from  the  hill. 

There  are  three  more,  and  there,  and  there! 

Have  you  no  end,  you  never-ending  day? 

How  have  I  dragged  the  hours  away  from  you 

Torn  them  to  shreds  and  cast  them  in  the  flood 

As  I  do  now  with  these  poor  tattered  blooms! 

How  have  I  coaxed  each  minute  of  this  day! 

Each  bracelet  and  each  earring  was  clasped  on, 

Ta'en  off  again,  then  once  more  tried,  until 

'Twas     thrown     aside,     exchanged,     and     others 

brought. — 

I  slowly  dripped  the  fountain,  drop  on  drop 
All  through  my  tresses,  dried  them  languidly. 
With  quiet,  measured  step,  out  in  the  sun 
I  walked  me  to  and  fro — oh!  to  and  fro! 
But  'twas  still  damp — the  path  is  narrow  there. — 
I  looked  among  the  bushes  for  the  birds, — 
Less  than  a  zephyr's  breath  I  bent  them  back, 
Those  swaying  branches,  sat  'neath  rustling  trees, 
And  felt  on  cheeks  and  hands  in  waiting  woe 


MADONNA  DIANORA  9 

The  little  flickerings  of  warm  sunshine. 

I  closed  my  eyes,  and  almost  thought  soft  lips 

Gently  caressing,  strayed  my  clammy  brow. 

Sometimes  hours  come  when  this  duplicity, 

All  this  concealment,  seems  so  fruitless,  and 

I  cannot  bear  it.    I  can  only  gaze 

With  eyes  of  steel  far  up  into  the  sky 

Where  flocks  of  wild  geese  float,  or  bend  me  low 

O'er  some  mad,  rushing,  plunging  waterfall 

That  tears  my  weakling  shadow  with  its  flow. — 

I  will  be  patient — why,  I  must,  I  am! — 

Madonna — I  will  climb  the  steepest  mount 

And  on  my  knees  will  count  me  every  stone 

With  this,  my  rosary,  if  only  now, 

Oh,  soon — this  day  will  sink  into  the  night. 

It  is  so  long!    I  have  its  measured  tread 

With  these  same  beads  been  scanning  o'er  and  o'er. 

And  now  I  talk  so  fev'rishly,  instead 

Of  counting  all  the  leaves  upon  that  tree. 

Oh!  I  have  finished  much  too  soon  again. 

See!  see  the  yeoman,  calling  to  his  dog. 

The  shadows  do  upon  his  garden  fall, 

For  him  the  night  has  come,  but  brings  no  joy; 

He  fears  it,  locks  his  door  and  is  alone. — 

See  where  the  maidens  wander  to  the  well. 

I  know  the  manner  in  which  each  of  them 

Will  fill  her  bucket — that  one's  prettiest. 

Why  does  the  stranger  at  the  cross  roads  stay? 


io  MADONNA  DIANORA 

Distant's  his  goal,  I  warrant.     He  unwinds 
And  folds  again  the  cloth  about  his  feet. 
What  an  existence!     Draw  the  thorns,  yes  draw 
Them  quickly  out.     You  must  speed.     We  all 
Must  hurry  on,1  the  restless  day  must  down 
And  with  it  take  this  bright  and  scarlet  glow 
That's  lingering  in  radiance  on  my  cheeks. 
All  that  is  troubling  us  cast  far  away 
Fling  wide  the  thorn  into  the  field 
Where  waters  flow  and  sheaves  of  brilliant  flow'rs 
Are     bending,     glowing,     yearning     towards     the 

night. — 

I  draw  my  rings  from  off  my  fingers,  and 
They're  happy  as  the  naked  children  are 
Who  scamper  quickly  to  the  brook  to  bathe. — 
Now  all  the  girls  have  gone — 
Only  one  maiden's  left.     Oh,  what  lovely  hair! 
I  wonder  if  she  knows  its  beauty's  power? 
Perhaps  she's  vain — but  vanity,  thou  art 
A  plaything  only  for  the  empty  years. 
When  once  she  has  arrived  where  I  am  now, 
She'll  love  her  hair,  she'll  let  it  clasp  her  close 
Enwrap  her  round  and  whisper  to  her  low, 
Like  echoing  harpstrings  throbbing  with  the  touch 
Of   fev'rish   fingers  straying  in   the   dark 

(She  loosens  her  hair  and  lets  it  fall  to  the  left 
and  to  the  right  in  front  of  her.) 


MADONNA  DIANORA  11 

What  would  you  close  to  me?     Down,  down  with 

you! — 

I  bid  you  greet  him.    When  the  dusk  has  come, 
And  when  his  hand  holds  fast  the  ladder  there 
'A  sudden  he  will  feel,  instead  the  leaves, 
The  cool,  firm  leaves,  a  gentle  spraying  rain, 
A  rain  that  falls  at  eve  from  golden  clouds. 

(She  lets  her  hair  fall  over  the  balustrade.) 

You  are  so  long,  and  yet  you  barely  reach 
A  third  the  distance;  hardly  are  your  ends 
Touching  the  cold,  white  marble  lion's  nose. 

(She  laughs  and  rises.) 

Ah!  there's  a  spider!     No,  I  will  not  fling 

You  off;  I  lay  my  hand  once  more 

Upon  this  spot,  so  you  may  find  again 

The  road  you  wish  to  speed  so  quickly  on. 

How  I  have  changed !    I  am  bewitched  indeed ! 

In  former  days,  I  could  not  touch  the  fruit 

Within  a  basket,  if  upon  its  edge 

A  spider  had  been  seen.     Now  in  my  hand 

It  runs. — Intoxication  makes  me  glad ! 

Why,  I  could  walk  along  the  very  edge 

Of  narrow  walls,  and  would  not  totter — no! — 

Could  I  but  fall  into  the  waters  deep! 


12  MADONNA  DIANORA 

In  their  cool  velvet  arms  I  would  be  well, 
Gliding  in  grottoes  of  bright  sapphire  hues, 
Playing  with  wondrous  beings  of  the  deep 
All  golden-finned,  with  eyes  benignly  sad. 
Yes,  if  I  were  immured  in  thickest  woods 
Within  some  ruined  walls,  my  soul  were  free. 
For  there  the  forest's  animals  would  come 
And  tiny  birds.    The  little  weasels  would 
Brush  up  against  and  touch  my  naked  toes 
With  their  soft  snouts  and  lashes  of  bright  eyes 
While  in  the  moss  I  lay  and  ate  wild  fruit. — 
What's  rustling?     'Tis  the  little  porcupine 
Of  that  first  night.     What,  are  you  there  again, 
Stepped  from  the  dark?    Art  going  on  the  hunt? 
Oh!  if  my  hunter  would  but  come  to  me! 

(Looking  up.) 

Now  have  the  shadows  vanished!     Gone  are  all 
Those  of  the  pines  and  those  upon  the  walls, 
The  ones  that  played  about  the  little  huts, 
The  large  ones  from  the  vineyards  and  the  one 
Upon  the  figtree  at  the  crossroads — gone 
As  though  the  quiet  earth  had  sucked  them  in ! 
The  night  has  really  come !    The  lamp 
Is  placed  upon  the  table,  closely  press 
The  sheep  together — close  within  the  fold. 
Within  the  darkest  corners  of  the  eaves 


MADONNA  DIANORA  13 

Where  thickest  vine-leaves  meet,  goblins  do  crouch 
And  on  the  heights  from  out  the  clearing  step 
The  blessed  saints  to  gaze  where  churches  stand 
Well  pleased  at  seeing  chapels  manifold. 
Now  sweetest  plaything  you  may  also  come, 
Finer  than  spider's  web,  stronger  than  steel. 

(She  fastens  one  end  of  the  silk  ladder  to  an  iron 
hook  on  the  floor  in  the  balcony.} 

Let  me  now  play  that  it  were  highest  time 
And  dip  you  deep  down,  down  into  my  well, 
To  bring  this  parched  one  a  sparkling  draught. 

(She  pulls  the  ladder  up  again.) 

Night,  night  has  come !    And  yet  how  long  might  be, 
Endlessly  long,  the  time  until  he  comes. 

(She  wrings  her  hands.) 
Might  be! 

(With  shining  eyes)  — 
But  must  not — yet,  it  might — 

(She  puts  up   her  hair.     During  this  time  the 


H  MADONNA  DIANORA 

nurse  has  stepped  to  the  front  window  and  waters 
the  red  flowers  there.) 

DIANORA 
(Much  frightened.) 

Who's  there,  who's  there!  Oh,  nurse,  nurse,  is 
it  you?  I've  ne'er  before  seen  you  in  here  so  late. 
Has  aught  occurred  ? — 

NURSE 

Why  nothing,  gracious  one.  Do  you  not  see,  I 
quite  forgot  my  flowers — They've  not  been  watered. 
On  my  way  from  church  I  suddenly  remembered, 
quickly  came. 

DIANORA 

Yes,  give  the  flowers  water.  But  how  strange 
you  look,  your  cheeks  are  feverish,  your  eyes  are 
shining — 

NURSE 
(Does  not  answer.) 


MADONNA  DIANORA  15 

DlANORA 

Who  preached?    Tell  me,  was  it  that  monk,  the 


one 


NURSE 
(Curtly.) 
Yes,  gracious  one. 

DIANORA 
The  one  from  Spain,  is't  not? 

NURSE 

(Does   not  answer.) 
(Pause.) 

DIANORA 
(Following  her  own  train  of  thought.) 

Can  you  recall  the  kind  of  child  I  was? 

NURSE 
Proud,  gracious  one,  a  proud  child,  very  proud. 


i6  MADONNA  DIANORA 

DlANORA 
(Very  softly.) 
How  singular!    Humility's  so  sweet! — What? — 

NURSE 
I  said  no  word,  my  gracious  Lady,  none — 

DIANORA 
Yes,  yes,  whom  does  the  Spanish  monk  resemble? 

NURSE 
He  is  different  from  the  others. 

DIANORA 

No — his  appearance!     Does  he  resemble  my  hus- 
band? 

NURSE 
No,  gracious  one. 

DIANORA 
My  brother-in-law? 


MADONNA  DIANORA  17 

NURSE 
No. 

DIANORA 
Ser  Antonio  Melzi? 

NURSE 
No. 

DIANORA 
Messer  Galeazza  Suardi? 

NURSE 
No. 

DIANORA 

Messer  Palla  degli  Albizzi? 
NURSE 

His  voice  is  a  little  like  Messer  Palla's — yes — I 
said  to  my  son  yesterday,  that  his  voice  reminded  me 
a  little  of  Messer  Palla's  voice. 


i8  MADONNA  DIANORA 

DlANORA 

The  voice — 

NURSE 

But  his  eyes  are  like  Messer  Guido  Schio,  the 
nephew  of  our  gracious  lord. 

DIANORA 

(Is  silent.) 

NURSE 
I  met  him  on  the  stairs  yesterday — he  stopped — 

DIANORA 

(Suddenly  flaring  up.) 
Messer   Palla? 

NURSE 

No!  Our  gracious  lord.  He  ordered  me  to 
make  him  some  ointment.  His  wound  is  not  yet 
entirely  healed. 


MADONNA  DIANORA  19 

DlANORA 

Oh  yes!  The  horse's  bite — did  he  show  it  to 
you? 

NURSE 

Yes — the  back  of  the  hand  is  quite  healed,  but  on 
the  palm  there's  a  small  dark  spot,  a  curious  spot, 
such  as  I've  never  seen  in  a  wound — 

DIANORA 
What  horse  did  it,  I  wonder? 

NURSE 
The  big  roan,  gracious  Lady. 

DIANORA 

Yes,  yes,  I  remember.  It  was  on  the  day  of  Fran- 
cesco Chieregati's  wedding. 

(She  laughs  loudly.) 

NURSE 
(Looks  at  her.) 


20  MADONNA  DIANORA 

DlANORA 

I  was  thinking  of  something  else.  He  told  about 
it  at  table — he  wore  his  arm  in  a  sling.  How  was 
it,  do  you  remember? 

NURSE 
What,  gracious  one? 

DIANORA 
With  the  horse — 

NURSE 

Don't  you  remember,  gracious  one? 
DIANORA 

He  spoke  about  it  at  table.  But  I  could  not  hear 
it.  Messer  Palla  degli  Albizzi  sat  next  to  me,  and 
was  so  merry,  and  everybody  laughed,  and  so  I  could 
not  hear  just  what  my  husband  said. 

NURSE 
When  our  gracious  lord  came  to  the  stall,  the 


21 

roan  put  back  his  ears,  foamed  with  rage  and  sud- 
denly snapped  at  the  master's  hand. 

DlANORA 

And  then? 

NURSB 

Then  the  master  hit  the  roan  behind  the  ears  with 
his  fist,  so  that  the  big,  strong  horse  staggered  back, 
as  though  it  were  a  dog — 

DIANORA 
(Is  silent,  looks  dreamily  down.) 

NURSE 

Oh  our  gracious  lord  is  strong!  He  is  the 
strongest  gentleman  of  all  the  nobility  the  country 
'round,  and  the  cleverest. 

DIANORA 
Yes,  indeed.     (Attentively  now.)     Who? 

NURSB 
Our  master. 


22 


Ah!  our  master.  (Smiles) — and  his  voice  is  so 
beautiful,  and  that  is  why  everybody  loves  to  listen 
to  him  in  the  large,  dark  church. 

NURSE 
Listen  to  whom,  gracious  one? 

DIANORA 
To  the  Spanish  monk,  to  whom  else? 

NURSE 

No,  my  Lady,  it  isn't  because  of  his  voice  that 
people  listen  to  him. 

DIANORA 

(Is  again  not  listening.) 

NURSE 

Gracious  one — my  Lady — is  it  true — what 
people  say  about  the  envoy? 

DIANORA 
What  envoy? 


MADONNA  DIANORA  23 

NURSE 

The  envoy  whom  the  people  of  Como  sent  to  our 
master. 

DIANORA 
What  are  people  saying? 

NURSE 

They  say  a  shepherd  saw  it. 
DIANORA 
What  did  he  see? 

NURSE 

Our  gracious  lord  was  angry  at  the  envoy  and 
would  not  accept  the  letter  that  the  people  of  Como 
had  written  him.  Then  he  took  it  anyhow — the 
letter — read  a  part  of  it,  tore  it  into  bits  and  held 
the  pieces  before  the  envoy's  mouth  and  demanded 
that  he  swallow  them.  But  the  envoy  went  back- 
wards, like  a  crab,  and  made  stary  eyes  just  like  a 
crab,  and  everybody  laughed,  especially  Signer  Sil- 
vio, the  master's  brother.  Then  the  master  sent 


24  MADONNA  DIANORA 

for  the  envoy's  mule  and  had  it  brought  to  the  gates. 
When  the  envoy  was  too  slow  in  mounting,  the 
master  whistled  for  the  dogs.  The  envoy  left  with 
his  two  yeomen.  Our  master  went  hunting  with 
seven  men  and  all  the  dogs.  Towards  evening, 
however,  they  say  that  our  gracious  lord  and  the 
envoy  met  at  the  bridge  over  the  Adda,  there  where 
Varese  begins — our  master  and  the  envoy  met.  And 
the  shepherd  was  passing  and  drove  his  sheep  next 
to  the  bridge  into  a  wheatfield — so  that  the  horses 
would  not  kill  them.  And  the  shepherd  heard  our 
master  cry  "There's  the  one  who  wouldn't  eat,  per- 
haps he'd  like  to  drink."  So  four  of  our  men  seized 
the  two  yeomen,  two  others  took  the  envoy,  each  one 
took  hold  of  a  leg,  lifted  him  from  the  saddle  and 
threw  him  screaming  like  a  madman  and  strug- 
gling fiercely,  over  the  parapet — he  tore  out  a  piece 
of  the  sleeve  of  one,  together  with  the  flesh.  The 
Adda  has  very  steep  banks  at  that  place — the  river 
was  dark  and  swollen  from  all  tne  rain  in  the 
mountains.  The  envoy  did  not  appear  again,  said 
the  shepherd. 

(Nurse  stops,  looks  questioningly  at  Dianora.) 

DIANORA 
(Anxiously.) 


MADONNA  DIANORA  25 

I  do  not  know. 

(She  shakes  off  the  worried  expression,  her  face 
assumes  the  dreamy,  inwardly  happy  expression.) 

Tell    me    something    about  his  preaching — the 
Spaniard's  preaching. 

NURSE 

I  don't  know  how  to  express  it,  gracious  one. 
DIANORA 

Say  just  a  little.     Does  he  preach  of  so  many 
things? 

NURSE 
No,  almost  always  about  one  thing. 

DIANORA 
What? 

NURSE 
Of  resignation  to  the  Lord's  will. 


26  MADONNA  DIANORA 

DlANORA 

(Looks  at  her  and  nods.} 

NURSE 
Gracious  one,  you  must  understand,  that  is  all. 

DIANORA 
What  do  you  mean  by — all — 

NURSE 

( While  speaking,  she  is  occupied  with  the  flow- 
ers.) 

He  says  that  all  of  life  is  in  that — there's  nothing 
else.  He  says  everything  is  inevitable  and  that's  the 
greatest  joy — to  realize  that  everything  is  inevitable 
and  that  is  good,  and  there  is  no  other  good.  The 
sun  must  glow,  the  stone  must  lie  on  the  dumb 
earth  and  every  living  creature  must  give  utterance 
to  its  voice — whether  we  will  or  no — we  must — 

DIANORA 

(Is  thinking — like  a  child.) 


MADONNA  DIANORA  27 

NURSE 

(Goes  from  window.} 
(Pause.) 

DIANORA 

As  though  'twere  mirrored  in  a  placid  pool 
Self-prisoned  lies  the  world  asleep,  adream — 
The  ivy's  tendrils  clamber  through  the  dusk 
Closely  embracing  thousandfold  the  wall. 
An  arbor  vita;  towers.     At  its  feet 
The  quiet  waters  mirror  what  they  see. 
And  from  this  window,  on  this  balustrade 
Of  cool  and  heavy  stones,  I  bend  me  o'er 
Stretching  my  arms  so  they  may  touch  the  ground. 
I  feel  as  though  I  were  a  dual  being 
Gazing  within  me  at  my  other  self. 

(Pause.) 

Methinks  such  thoughts  crowd  in  upon  the  soul 
When  grim,  inexorable  death  is  near. 

(She  shudders  and  crosses  herself.) 

NURSE 
(Has  returned  several  times  to  the  window;  in 


28  MADONNA  DIANORA 

one  hand  she  carries  scissors  with  which  she  clips  the 
dry  branches  from  the  plants.) 

My  task  is  done,  so  good  night,  gracious  one. 

DIANORA 
(Startled.) 

What?    Good  night,  nurse,  farwell.     I'm  dizzy, 
faint. 

NURSE 
(Goes  off.) 

DIANORA 
(With  a  great  effort.) 

Nurse !    nurse ! 

NURSE 
(Comes  back.) 

DIANORA 

If    the    Spanish    monk    preaches    tomorrow,    I'll 
go  with  you. 


MADONNA  DIANORA  29 

NURSE 
Yes,  tomorrow,  my  Lady,  if  the  Lord  spare  us. 

DIANORA 
(Laughs.) 

Certainly — if  the  Lord  spare  us.     Good  night. 
(A  long  pause.) 

DIANORA 

His  voice  is  all  he  has,  the  stranger  monk, 
Yet  people  flock,  hang  on  his  words  like  bees 
Upon  the  dark  sweet  blossoms,  and  they  say 
"This  man  is  not  like  others — he 
Does  shake  our  souls,  his  voice  melts  into  space 
Floats  down  to  us  and  penetrates  our  being — 
We  are  like  children  when  we  hear  his  voice." — 
Oh,  if  a  Judge  could  have  his  lofty  brow, 
Who  would  not  kneel  upon  the  steps  to  read 
Each  sentence  from  his  clear  and  shining  brow. 
How  sweet  to  kneel  upon  the  lowest  step 
And  know  one's  fate  were  safe  within  that  hand, 
Within  those  kingly,  good  and  noble  hands! 


30  MADONNA  DIANORA 

And  oh,  his  merriment!     How  exquisite! 

To  see  such  people  merry  is  a  joy. 

— He  took  me  by  the  hand  and  drew  me  on. 

My  blood  ran  magic,  backward  stretched  my  hand. 

The  laughing  throng  upon  it  closely  hung 

A  sinuous  chain,  we  flew  'long  arbored  walks 

Down  through  a  deep  and  steep  and  narrow  path 

Cool  as  a  well,  and  bordered  very  close 

With  cypresses  that  lived  a  century — 

Then  down  the  brightest  slope. 

Up  to  my  knees  the  wild,  warm  flowers  kissed 

Where  we  were  running  like  a  breeze  in  May. 

Then  he  released  me,  and  alone  he  leapt 

Upon   the  marble  stairs  between  cascades. 

Astride  he  sat  upon  the  dolphin's  back 

And  held  himself  up  on  the  arms  of  fauns, 

Upon  the  dripping  Tritons'  shoulders  stood 

Mounting  always;  high,  higher  still  he  clomb, 

The  wildest,   handsomest  of  all  the  gods ! — 

Beneath  his  feet  the  waters  bubbled  forth 

They  sparkled,  foamed,  and  showered  the  air  with 

spray, 

Falling  on  me.    The  waves'  tumultuous  din 
Drowned  out,  engulfed  the  entire  world. 
Heneath  his  feet  the  waters  bubbled  forth 
They  sparkled,  foamed  and  showered  their  spray  on 

me. 


MADONNA  DIANORA  31 

(Pause — Footsteps  are  heard  in  the  distance.} 

DIANORA 

Sh !    Footsteps !    No,  it  is  so  much  too  soon — 
And  yet — and  yet — (long  waiting}  they  come. 

(Pause.) 

They  do  not  come — 

Oh,  no,  they  do  not  come — They're  shuffling  steps, 

They  shuffle  down  the  vineyard — now  they  reel — 

There  are  the  steps!    A  drunkard,  verily! 

Stay  on  the  street,  intoxicated  one 

What  would  you  do  within  our  garden  gates? — 

No  moon  shines  here  tonight — were  there  a  moon 

I  were  not  here — no,  no  I  were  not  here. 

The  little  stars  are  flickering  restlessly, 

They  cannot  light  the  way  for  such  as  you — 

Go  home!    I  too  wait  for  a  drunken  one, 

But  one  not  drunken  from  a  musty  wine. 

His  footsteps  are  as  light  as  wind  on  grass 

And  surer  than  the  tread  of  the  young  lion. 

(Pause.) 

These  hours  are  martyrdom !     No,  no,  no,  no, 
They're  not — no,  they  are  beautiful  and  good 


32  MADONNA  DIANORA 

And  lovely  and  so  sweet!     He  comes,  he  comes! 
A  long,  long  way  already  he  has  walked — 
The  last  tall  tree  down  there  has  seen  him  come — 
It  could — if  that  dark  strip  of  woodland  boughs 
Did  not  obscure  the  road — and  'twere  not  dark — 

(Pause.) 

He  comes — as  certainly  as  I  do  now 

Upon  this  hook  bind  this  frail  ladder — comes, 

As  surely  as  I  now  do  let  it  down 

In  rustling  murmur  in  the  leaves  enmeshed, 

As  certainly  as  it  now  swaying  hangs, 

Quivering  softly,  as  I  bend  me  low 

Myself  aquiver  with  a  greater  thrill — 

(She  remains  for  a  long  time  bent  over  the  balus- 
trade. Suddenly  she  seems  to  hear  the  curtain  be- 
tween her  balcony  and  the  room  thrown  back.  She 
turns  her  head  and  her  features  are  distorted  in 
deathly  fear  and  terror.  Messer  Braccio  stands  si- 
lently in  the  door.  He  wears  a  simple,  dark  green 
robe,  carries  no  weapons — his  shoes  are  low.  'He 
is  very  tall  and  strong.  His  face  resembles?  the 
portraits  of  aristocrats  and  captains  of  mercenaries. 
He  has  an  extremely  large  forehead  and  small  dark 
eyes,  closely  cropped,  curly  black  hair,  and  a  small 
beard  that  covers  his  cheeks  and  chin.) 


MADONNA  DIANORA  33 

DlANORA 
( Wants  to  speak  but  is  unable  to  utter  a  sound. ) 

MESSER  BRACCIO 
(Beckons  to  her  to  pull  up  the  ladder.) 

DIANORA 

(Does  so  like  an  automaton  and  drops  the  bundle, 
as  in  a  trance,  at  her  feet.) 

BRACCIO 

(Looks  at  her  quietly,  reaches  with  his  right  hand 
to  his  left  hip,  also  with  his  left  hand;  notices  that  he 
has  no  dagger.  He  moves  his  lips  impatiently, 
glances  toward  the  garden,  then  over  his  shoulders. 
He  lifts  his  right  hand  for  a  moment  and  examines 
his  palm,  then  walks  firmly  and  quietly  back  into 
the  room.) 

DIANORA 

(Looks  after  him  incessantly ;  she  cannot  take  her 
eyes  away  from  him.  As  the  curtain  closes  behind 
his  retreating  form,  she  passes  her  fingers  excitedly 


34  MADONNA  DIANORA 

over  her  face  and  through  her  hair,  then  folds  her 
hands  and  murmurs  a  prayer,  her  lips  wildly  con- 
vulsed. Then  she  throws  her  arms  backwards  and 
folds  them  about  the  stone  pillar,  in  a  gesture  that 
indicates  a  desperate  resolve  and  a  triumphant  expec- 
tancy.) 

BRACCIO 

(Steps  into  the  doorway  again  carrying  an  arm- 
chair, which  he  places  in  the  opening  of  the  door. 
He  seats  himself  on  it,  facing  his  wife.  His  face 
does  not  change.  From  time  to  time  he  raises  his 
right  hand  mechanically  and  examines  the  little 
wound  upon  its  palm.) 

BRACCIO 

(His  tone  is  cold,  rather  disdainful.  He  points 
with  his  foot  and  eyes  to  the  ladder.) 

Who? 

DIANORA 

(Raises  her  shoulders,  and  drops  them  slowly.) 

BRACCIO 
I  know! 


MADONNA  DIANORA  35 

DlANORA 

(Raises   her   shoulders   and   drops    them    slowly. 
Her  teeth  are  clenched.) 

BRACCIO 

(Moves  his  hand,  barely  glances  at  his  wife  and 
looks  again  into  the  garden.) 

Palla  degli  Albizzi ! 

DIANORA 
(Between  her  teeth.) 

How  ugly  the  most  beautiful  of  names 
Becomes  when  uttered  by  unseemly  tongue. 

BRACCIO 

(Looks  at  her  as  though  he  were  about  to  speak, 
but  remains  silent.) 

(Pause.) 

BRACCIO 
How  old  are  you  ? 


36  MADONNA  DIANORA 

DlANORA 
(Does  not  answer.) 

BRACCIO 
Fifteen  and  five.  You  are  twenty  years  old. 

DIANORA 

(Does  not  answer.) 
(Pause.) 

DIANORA 
(Almost  screaming.) 

My  father's  name  was  Bartholomeno  Colleone — 
you  can  let  me  say  the  Lord's  Prayer  and  the  Hail 
Mary,  and  then  kill  me,  but  not  let  me  stand  here 
like  a  fettered  beast. 

BRACCIO 

(Looks  at  her  as  though  surprised,  does  not 
answer — glances  at  his  hand.) 

DIANORA 

(Strokes  back  her  hair  slowly,  folds  her  elbows 
over  her  breast,  stares  at  him,  then  drops  her  arms, 


MADONNA  DIANORA  37 

seems  to  divine  his  plan.  Her  voice  is  completely 
changed  and  is  like  a  string  that  is  stretched  to  the 
breaking-point.) 

One  of  my  women  I  desire,  who  will — 
(She  stops;  her  voice  seems  to  give  out.) 
First  braid  my  hair — 'tis  tangled — disarranged. 

BRACCIO 
You  often  help  yourself  without  a  maid. 

DIANORA 

(Presses  her  lips  together,  says  nothing,  smoothes 
her  hair  at  the  temples,  folds  her  hands.) 

I  have  no  children.    My  mother  I  saw  once — 

I  saw  her  once,  just  once  before  she  died. 

My  father  led  me  and  my  sister  to 

A  vaulted,  high,  severe  and  gloomy  room. 

The  suff'rer  I  saw  not;  her  hand  alone 

Hung  like  a  greeting  for  me — that  I  kissed. 

About  my  father  I  remember  this: 

He  wore  an  armor  of  green  burnished  gold 

With  darker  clasps — two  always  helped  him  mount 


38  MADONNA  DIANORA 

Upon  his  horse,  for  he  was  very  old. — 
I  hardly  knew  Medea.    Not  much  joy 
Had  she,  my  sister.    Thin  of  hair, 
Her  forehead  and  her  temples  older  seemed, 
Much  older,  than  her  mouth  and  hands  to  me. 
She  always  held  a  flower  in  her  hand. — 
Oh  Lord,  have  mercy  unto  these  sweet  souls 
As  unto  mine,  and  bid  them  welcome  me 
Greeting  me  kindly  when  I  come  to  Thee. 
I  cannot  kneel — there  is  no  space  to  kneel. 

BRACCIO 

(Rises,  pushes  the  chair  into  the  room  to  make 
space  for  her.    She  does  not  notice  him.) 

DIANORA 

There's  more — I  must  remember — Bergamo 
Where  I  was  born — the  house  in  Feltre  where 
The  uncles  and  the  cousins  were     .... 
Then  they  put  me  upon  a  gallant  steed 
Caparisoned  most  splendidly — they  rode, 
Cousins  and  many  others  by  my  side. 
And  so  I  came  here,  from  whence  now  I  go     .     .     . 

(She  has  leaned  back  and  looks  up  at  the  glitter- 
ing stars  upon  the  black  sky — she  shudders.) 


MADONNA  DIANORA  39 

I  wanted  something  else — 
(She  searches  her  memory.) 

In  Bergamo  where  I  was  taught  to  walk 
Upon  the  path  that  brought  me  here,  I  erred 
Often — most  frequently  through  pride,  and  now 
I  am  contrite  and  would  go  to  confession 
For  all  those  errors,  and  some  graver  ones: — 
When    I    (she  ponders) —  three   days   after   Saint 

Magdalen 

Was  riding  homeward  from  the  chase  with  him, 
This  man  here,  who's  my  husband — others  too — 
Upon  the  bridge  an  old  lame  beggar  lay. 
I  knew  that  he  was  old  and  ill  and  sore 
And  there  was  something  in  his  tired  eyes 
Reminded  me  of  my  dead  father — but 
Nevertheless — only  because  the  one 
Riding  beside  me  touched  my  horse's  bridle, 
I  did  not  pull  aside,  but  let  the  dust 
My  horse  kicked  up,  blind,  choke  that  poor  old  man. 
Yes,  so  close  I  rode  that  with  his  hands 
He  had  to  lift  aside  his  injured  leg. 
This  I  remember,  this  I  now  regret. 

BRACCIO 

The  one  beside  you  held  your  horse's  bridle? 


40  MADONNA  DIANORA 

(He  looks  at  her.) 

DIANORA 

(Answers  his  look,  understands  him,  says  trench- 
antly.) 

Yes!    Then,  as  often  since — as  often  since — 

And  yet  how  rarely  after  all ! 

How  meagre  is  all  joy — a  shallow  stream 

In  which  you're  forced  to  kneel,  that  it  may  reach 

Up  to  your  shoulders — 

BRACCIO 

Of  my  servants  who, — of  all  your  women,  who 
knew  of  these  things? 

DIANORA 
(Is  silent.) 

BRACCIO 

(Makes  a  disdainful  gesture.) 

DIANORA 

Falsely,  quite  falsely  you  interpret  now 

My  silence.     How  can  I  tell  who  might  know  ? — 


MADONNA  DIANORA  41 

But  if  you  think  that  I  am  one  of  those 
Who  hides  behind  her  hirelings  her  joy, 
You  know  me  ill.    Now  note — note  and  take  heed : 
Once  may  a  woman  be — yes,  once  she  may 
Be  as  I  was  for  twelve  weeks — once  she  may — 
If  she  had  found  no  need  of  veil  before, 
All  veiled,  protected  by  her  own  great  pride 
As  by  a  shield — she  once  may  rend  that  veil, 
Feel  her  cheeks  crimson,  burning  in  the  sun! 
Horrible  she,  who  twice  could  such  a  thing! 
I'm  not  of  those — that  surely  you  must  know. 
Who    knew?      Who    guessed?      I   never  hid  my 

thoughts ! 

Your  brother  must  have  known — just  as  you  knew, 
Your  brother  just  as  you.     Ask  him,  ask  him! 

(Her  voice  is  strange,  almost  childlike,  yet  ex- 
alted.) 

That  day — 'twas  in  July,  Saint  Magdalen, 
Francesco  Chieregati's  wedding-day — 
That  nasty  thing  upon  your  hand  came  then, 
Came  on  that  day.    Well,  I  remember  too. 
We  dined  out  in  the  arbor — near  the  lake, 
And  he  sat  next  to  me,  while  opposite 
Your  brother  sat.    Then  passing  me  the  fruit 
Palla  did  hold  the  heavy  golden  dish 
Of  luscious  peaches  so  that  I  might  take. 


42  MADONNA  DIANORA 

My  eyes  were  fastened  on  his  hands — I  longed 
To  humbly  kiss  his  hands,  there, — before  all. 
Your  brother — he's  malicious  and  no  fool — 
Caught  this  my  glance,  and  must  have  guessed  my 

thought. 

He  paled  with  anger. — Sudden  came  a  dog, 
A  tall  dark  greyhound  brushed  his  slender  head 
Against  my  hand, — the  left  one  by  my  side, — 
Your  stupid  brother  kicked  in  furious  rage 
With  all  his  might,  the  dog — only  because 
He  could  not  with  a  shining  dagger  pierce 
Me  and  my  lover.     I  but  looked  at  him, 
Caressed  and  stroked  the  dog,  and  had  to  laugh! 

(She  laughs  immoderately  and  shrilly  in  a  way 
that  threatens  to  become  a  scream,  or  to  break  into 
tears  at  any  moment.) 

BRACCIO 
(Seems  to  listen.) 

DIANORA 

(Also  listens.  Her  face  expresses  horrible  ten- 
sion. Soon  she  cannot  bear  it  and  begins  to  speak 
again  almost  deliriously.) 

Why  whosoever  saw  me  walk  would  know ! 
Walked  I  not  differently?    Did  not  I  ride 


MADONNA  DIANORA  43 

Ecstatically?    I  could  look  at  you 
And  at  your  brother  and  this  gloomy  house 
And  feel  as  light  as  air,  floating  in  space. 
The  myriad  trees  seemed  all  to  come  to  me 
Filled  with  the  sunlight  dancing  toward  me, 
All  paths  were  open  in  the  azure  air — 
Those  sunlit  paths  were  all  the  roads  to  him. 
To  start  with  fright  was  sweet — he  might  appear 
From  any  corner,  any  bush  or  tree — 

(Her  language  becomes  incoherent  from  terror, 
because  she  sees  that  Braccio  has  drawn  the  curtains 
behind  him  close.  Her  eyes  are  unnaturally  wide 
open — her  lips  move  constantly.} 

BRACCIO 

(In  a  tone  that  the  actor  must  find  for  himself, 
not  loud,  not  low,  not  strong  nor  yet  weak,  but 
impenetrating. ) 

If  I,  your  husband,  had  not  at  this  hour 
Come  to  your  chamber  to  fetch  me  a  salve, 
An  ointment  for  my  wounded  hand — what  would — 
What  had  you  done,  intended,  meant  to  do? 

DIANORA 

(Looks  at  him,  as  though  distraught,  does  not 


44  MADONNA  DIANORA 

understand  his  latest  question.  Her  right  hand 
presses  her  forehead — with  the  left  she  shakes  the 
ladder  before  his  face,  lets  it  fall  at  his  feet,  one  end 
remains  tied,  shrieks.) 

What  had  I  done?    What  had  I  done,  you  ask? 
Why  waited  thus — I  would  have  waited — so! 

(She  sways  her  open  arms  before  him  like  one  in- 
toxicated, throws  herself  around,  with  the  upper  part 
of  her  body  over  the  balustrade,  stretches  her  arms 
towards  the  ground — her  hair  falls  over  them.) 

BRACCIO 

(With  a  hurried  gesture  tears  off  a  piece  of  his 
sleeve  and  winds  it  around  his  right  hand.  With 
the  sureness  of  a  wild  animal  on  the  hunt,  he  grasps 
the  ladder  that  is  lying  there,  like  a  thin,  dark  rope, 
with  both  hands,  makes  a  loop,  throws  it  over  his 
wife's  head  and  pulls  her  body  towards  him. 

(During  this  time  the  curtain  falls.) 


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